Page 105 of Savage Sacrifice
Before another word can be said on the matter, my cell phone vibrates on the nightstand, drawing my attention away. With a sigh, I glance to see a text has come through from Wylder.
Wylder:SOS!
Wylder: What the hell! You said we could trust that guy.
Wylder: I just got here to trade back shifts with Fangtastic fucking Freddie, and he’s not here, and Bryony’s gone too.
“Fuck.”I chuck my cell phone down on the bed.
“Blaze,” she says with a gasp, and I roll my eyes.
“Mother.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and rush to my feet.
Thankfully, I slipped into a fresh set of clothes before I opted to lie down. Hurrying toward the door, I stick my feet into my sneakers as I answer my mother. “Bryony’s gone.”
“The girl from the basement? She shouldn’t have been there to begin with,” she states, and I whip my gaze to hers, horror running through my veins.
“Did you let her go?”
How else would she know who I’m talking about?
She shuffles to the end of the bed, standing as she stretches her arms above her head. “Of course I did. You can’t have the center of the entire Renegade Coven holed up down there.”
“The fuck I can’t,” I blurt, frustrated, and her lips pinch in irritation.
“Blaze!”
“Mother,” I retort. Pressing my fingers into my temple, I will myself to remain calm. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”
She lifts her hands in surrender. “Obviously not, so how about you explain it to me? If I agree, I’ll chain her back up myself.”
How is this happening to me right now?
We finally start heading in the right direction, and my mother, of all people, releases the one person we need.
“Okay, when?—”
The ringtone from my cell phone cuts through the air, cutting off my thoughts. I spy Polaris’s name on the screen, but before I can get to it, my mother snags it off the bed, bringing the device to her ear.
“Oh, hello, my devoted-in-law,” she preens down the line, her smile contagious.
“Mother,” I snarl angrily, and she gives me a withering look.
“What? I like her,” she insists, but when Polaris’s soft voice comes through the line, my mother stills. “Polaris, dear, what’s wrong?”
Wrong?
What does she mean by ‘what’s wrong?’
“Hand me the cell phone,” I mutter, extending my hand, and she turns away, thrusting her hand in my direction to keep me at bay, and I snarl at her in irritation. Not that she cares, she’s too busy listening to whatever Polaris is saying.
What she should be saying to me.
Fuck.
“Polaris, don’t cry,” my mother breathes, and my entire body comes alive.
